


It Means Something

by melodycanta



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: Dai is too cute for words, Gifts, M/M, Modeling, Very mild DaiRikka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: Dai realizes there's something missing for Rikka, and he's determined to figure out how to give it to him.





	It Means Something

**Author's Note:**

> First TsukiPro work! I'm not sure how much I'll post in this fandom, but I love SolidS, so there'll probably be more.
> 
> It's really bugged me that Rikka was going to stop modeling and then keeps modeling for SolidS, and it's never mentioned again . . . so Dai to the rescue!

Dai Murase wasn’t lazy in any sense of the word. He had the strength and discipline of an athlete, drilled into him with the years of early practices before school and late-night swims as an aspiring Olympian. 

Still, if there was one thing he hated, it was still being in the spotlight, cameras trained on him as he posed with the supposed grace as if he weren’t posing. He was better at it now—practice had forced him to become better—but he still hated it. It felt fake in a way that the singing and dancing and greeting fans didn’t. And as he shifted between shots, keeping his face schooled in the precise way he’d been taught, he wondered again how Rikka could stand it.

“Chin up a little, Murase-san,” the photographer said, and he obediently corrected his form.

Modeling wasn’t his normal thing. They all had a “thing”, he’d learned early on in their collaboration. He was learning a lot from Shiki about how to compose and write music, and he’d even written his own duet with Tsubasa on their current album. Tsubasa himself was an excellent actor, something that hadn’t surprised Dai in the slightest. He was constantly booked for commercial slots and the occasional drama, although his schedule wouldn’t allow him to become a regular on anything. Shiki was their producer, and along with the composition of their songs, he mastered and produced everything they sang. Shiki’s hands were all over their music, from beginning to end, and Dai had the utmost respect for him. The way he’d created their image from nothing, taking two groups of longtime friends to become one cohesive unit that the public could consume and enjoy . . . it was nothing short of incredible.

And that left Rikka as the model.

He’d been a model a long time before their fateful encounter, Dai had learned from Shiki the first night he’d moved into the dorms, not that he needed to be told. Rikka Sera’s face was on everything, from perfume bottles to billboards across Japan and the world. He was beautiful in a way that was fragile, like he’d been formed from glass or porcelain. Even now, Dai had the urge to sweep his fingers across Rikka’s cheek to make sure there was actual skin, even though they’d touched several times in the years they’d been SolidS. There was something ethereal about him that felt unreal.

So when Rikka had said almost offhandedly that he’d been planning to drop modeling in order to become a government worker when he’d met up with Shiki, it had been a shock. For years, Dai had thought about beautiful Rikka, a government worker trapped in a cage of cubicle walls. It was far better here, performing. Here he was free; he could share his talents and travel and be with them. 

It didn’t occur to Dai that Rikka had stopped modeling _because he wanted to stop modeling_ until he was at his first solo shoot, wondering how Rikka could have done this since he was a child. Rikka had done hundreds of shoots after the creation of SolidS, which had contributed greatly to their popularity. He was still on all of the merchandise he had been before and _more_. He hadn’t said anything in opposition either, just smiled. Finally, the apologies Shiki had been making after informing him of every appointment every time made sense. 

“These will do nicely. Please, give Sera-san our regards when you see him next,” the photography director said, and Dai loosened from his pose, rolling his shoulders back. Everyone in the industry knew Rikka, and it was obvious that Rikka had trained Dai and Tsubasa in certain things, or so it was said. 

It only took him a few minutes to strip out of his clothes and remove his makeup (how the makeup artists always managed to make his jaw look so square was beyond him; it was like they somehow found extra skin and bone that Dai had never known was there, and was gone as soon as he ran a makeup wipe over it), and then he was out the door. Haiduki had offered to get him, but he refused, instead walking down to the small shopping center nearby.

As promised, Rikka was standing in front of the small clothing shop they’d agreed on, gazing inside every so often before his gaze snapped forward, as if someone might catch him window shopping. He waved as Dai approached. “How did the shoot go?”

“Good. Kinugawa-san said to give you his regards.”

“He’s very kind for remembering me.” The smile on Rikka’s face was touched, Dai was sure. Rikka had many smiles, not all of them genuine, but this one seemed to be. “And you’re very kind too. Are you sure you want to accompany me on your time off?”

Dai shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better place to be. Shopping wasn’t his favorite thing, but with Rikka it was tolerable. “You want to stop in here?” he asked, nodding towards the shop they were standing in front of.

“Do you want to eat something first? We can always come back . . .”

Dai held open the door for his bandmate. “Come on.”

One of the best parts of shopping with Rikka was that he never felt excluded. He was rushed all over the store, but half of what was shoved at him was stuff for him to try on. He was never too far out of his comfort zone, but it was obvious that Rikka was far more fashion forward than he was. 

When they finally stopped for lunch, Rikka was still mumbling about how Dai had looked excellent in the navy blazer he’d just tried on but declined to buy. It wasn’t really his style, regardless of how it had looked. “You really do have great shoulders. You should really accentuate them more; I hope whatever they had you wear for your shoot showed them off properly.”

And there it was. The hint that Rikka had never quite clicked off from work, that he was still seeing the world through the lens of a camera and what would look good on it. The things that were hidden were only hidden for function, because what was the use of a model who wasn’t constantly in model mode? “Have you ever thought about wearing something just because _you_ liked it?” he asked, aware that he was asking it very aggressively for such an innocent question.

Rikka recoiled, shoulders hunching and an expression of shock flitting across his face before it was smothered back into submission. “I wear a lot of things that I like,” he said, in a patient tone as if he were explaining it to a child.

“Regardless of how it looked?”

“I prefer things to be aesthetically pleasing.”

He wasn’t getting it, and Dai could feel his impatience beginning to rise. “What about Tsubasa’s bracelet?”

“He never takes it off. I certainly couldn’t wear it.” 

“That’s the point. He never takes it off.”

Rikka leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

This was the _talking_ part that Dai knew he wasn’t good at. “Tsubasa never takes it off because it means something to him. It was a gift.”

“He’s told me. It’s quite a cute story.”

And then words failed him, because he had no idea how to continue. How could he express to Rikka that it felt like one of his favorite things to do seemed to be governed by his work? Like fashion and shopping were things Rikka did because he was expected to put together outfits and be good at it? That the hobby felt empty and the clothes felt just as empty? “Never mind.”

“Dai?”

Dai shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Rikka looked concerned, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he asked about their group song, and their dynamic returned to normal.

If only Dai could stop thinking about it.

It wasn’t until they passed a jewelry store on their way to meet Haiduki that it occurred to Dai what he could do about it. “Wait here,” he suddenly blurted out, interrupting their conversation and darting inside before Rikka could argue.

Idols had a decent amount of money, and Dai had never been more relieved at that, because he dropped a sizable chunk of yen on the necklace he’d happened to see in the store window. The silver charm sparkled in the light, and the gems were tiny, particularly for the price, but the purple, yellow, pink, and blue colors had reminded him of SolidS, and it had suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the best way to show Rikka what he had been missing was to give him something that showed the difference.

“For you,” he said, breathless after rushing out of the store. He shoved the velvet box into Rikka’s hands, waiting as the emotions of confusion, disbelief, and shock flitted across his face. 

“For . . . me?”

“For you. It’s a gift.”

Rikka’s gaze darted to his face and then down to the box in his hands before he opened it. “It’s . . . SolidS colors.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do.” Rikka’s fingers traced the delicate lines of silver.

“You should wear it.”

“It’s much too special,” Rikka protested, but Dai plucked the box from his hand, extracting it with only a little difficulty. He motioned for Rikka to turn, and he did, albeit with a bit of pause. 

“Now you have something to wear that means something to you,” Dai muttered, feeling his face burn as he fumbled with the clasp.

Rikka’s sharp inhale told him that his point had finally been understood. “Dai . . .”

This was far too awkward. He could feel Rikka wasn’t upset, but he was also not saying much, and as soon as he got the necklace fastened, he stepped backwards. “Haiduki-san is waiting for us.”

“Dai.” Rikka’s hand closed around his own, pulling him closer again. “Thank you.”

The air felt so heavy, like he couldn’t breathe, but Rikka’s gaze had him pinned so that he couldn’t move. “It’s nothing,” he tried to say.

“ _It means something_ ,” Rikka said. There was a smile on his face, and Dai recognized it as another genuine one, so thrilled that his heart fluttered in his chest at just how happy his bandmate was.

“It does.” He had to clear his throat for the words to come out, and when they did, they were shaky.

Rikka squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” he said again, before turning back to their previous path and pulling Dai towards where Haiduki was waiting. But he didn’t let go of Dai’s hand, and Dai noticed his other hand clasped at where the necklace rested on his sternum.

Maybe they still needed Rikka to model, but that didn’t mean everything had to be meaningless, Dai hoped he realized. Someday, he’d be free. But for now, he just hoped Rikka knew that they were behind him.


End file.
